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‘Thanks.’ He laughed, holding out his hand. ‘Friends?’

She tossed back her head with a confidence she didn’t feel and shook his hand. ‘Friends.’

The shake was light, but his grip was firm, and he held on to her hand far longer than was necessary. Her hand went limp and the wind ruffled the baby curls at her neck, causing goosebumps and a rush of excitement down her spine.

He raised her hand slowly, in a courtly gesture from another time, his lips twisting into a lopsided smile as if he were both mocking and honouring the gesture all at once. He pressed his mouth to her cold skin – the heat a startling brand – and she blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend the strangeness of the moment.

Caleb Townsend was kissing her – not in the way she’d always hoped and imagined, but with a searing tenderness and respect that was wilder than anything she might have imagined.

His head lifted, but his eyes were still intense. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and she must have frowned because he explained softly as he lowered her hand. ‘For how I treated you back then. You deserved better.’

Her thoughts scattered, sailing into the harbour like falling leaves caught and lifted on a fragile breeze.

When Caleb let go of her hand it dropped like a heavy weight, slapping against her leg. Embarrassed, she turned from him and rested her arms on the railing, as he’d done previously, no longer caring about the height. She felt light and hot as she stared out at the glittering view. His arms brushed against hers as he too admired the beautiful Sydney Harbour, a world away from Hackney and the past.

The silence between them filled with a tentative agreement for the future and memories best left forgotten.

Chapter Ten

An hour later, back at the climbing base, they stripped off their jumpsuits, put their leathers on, retrieved their personal items from their lockers, and then posted their used suits down a theatrically big red chute.

Caleb offered to get them some water while she quickly picked up the digital photos and video card from their climb. She’d preordered it online the night before as she could get a discount that way, but she dreaded to think how they’d turned out – she was convinced it was Victoria’s first week, possibly first day on the job. But hopefully she could make something out of them.

When Caleb returned, she took the water bottle he offered gratefully. ‘It’s cheaper to download and sort out the printing later,’ she explained. ‘But I can show you what they took on my phone once it’s finished downloading, or tag you in them. What’s your handle?’

‘I’m not on socials.’ Caleb shrugged, took a sip from his own water bottle, and then added, ‘Email me any of the good shots of us, and then I can stick them on my fridge back home.’

He might as well have said he was a flat earther; she was so surprised and horrified. But then she realised she hadn’t seen any socials on his business card or when she’d casually searched his name last night – although she’d presumed he’d used an obscure handle; many men did that, usually to hide their affairs.

‘Like at all?’ she asked. ‘I’d have thought with your line of work you would be.’

Caleb winced. ‘Yeah, Emma, Lucas’s PA, keeps telling me I should be. But I’m not good with that sort of thing. Feels like a waste of time.’

Hannah tried not to take offence at that, considering she did waste a lot of time on her socials – she justified it as her hobby. ‘Well, it could be good for you. I mean you must do lots of exciting stunts and working on films is pretty incredible. Your content would be amazing, and you might even get more work from it.’

Caleb seemed unconvinced. ‘Show me yours, just so I can see how it works.’

Cold horror washed through her, and she tried to ignore the growing embarrassment as she clicked on her app and went to her profile. ‘Uh, sure. I mean, there’s not stuntman-level exciting stuff on mine, but sure.’

He took the phone from her and peered at her social media grid, with its wall of sunshine smiles and magazine-styled brunches. ‘What’s all this in the bio? Living my best life? New country, new me?’

Heat swamped her face with embarrassment. She’d thought those words were inspirational, but hearing Caleb say them only reminded her of all her current failings. No home, no boyfriend, and a job she only had because of bumping into her Pencil-wielding ex-crush.

‘Well, I started the account when I came out here to Australia. I wanted a fresh start.’ God, she’d said that earlier, about them having a fresh start. She must seem obsessed with new beginnings. Perhaps she was?

‘I know those guys were mean, but that was teenage bullshit. And you only came out here this year, right? What made you decide to leave London? What didn’t you like about the old you?’ he asked, and by his wrinkled brow and downturned mouth she could tell he was insulted by the idea. Which was both bizarre and strangely flattering.

‘Nothing really,’ she half-squeaked, and then tried to appear nonchalant with a shrug. He didn’t need to know that she’d been a late bloomer. ‘I was bored of London. I’d lived there my whole life. I wanted to try something different.’

‘I can understand that,’ Caleb conceded, almost begrudgingly. ‘It’s one of the reasons I love my job. I get to travel all the time and live in different countries.’

She frowned because that wasn’t exactly what she meant. ‘I love travelling. But that wasn’t the only reason I came to Australia.’ She sighed, unsure of how to proceed without making herself sound like a boring, uptight loser. ‘I wanted a different lifestyle, a more laid-back and carefree one. I didn’t want to be tied to a huge mortgage that I would have to spend my entire life working to pay off. I wanted to live my life to the fullest. I couldn’t see myself doing that in London.’ She needed to be different, and she couldn’t change in front of her family and friends. They wouldn’t understand.

Caleb nodded enthusiastically. ‘I get it. I can’t resist an adventure.’

Hannah wasn’t sure he did understand. It wasn’t that she craved excitement, she just wanted to be happy and free. To leave the old anxious, self-doubting, miserable Hannah behind.

‘I don’t remember you taking that,’ he said, pointing out her breakfast pic from his hotel, the iconic opera house carefully angled in the background. She hoped he didn’t pay too close attention to her caption, #bestbreakfastspotever, because she already felt like a fraud, and he’d spent less than thirty seconds on her profile. ‘Ahh, that’s when you went to see if the hotel would print my contract.’